Well, let us hope so, brother, for your sake. You've had a gay time, haven't you? with your raids on the temples. I can't help thinking that heaven will be very dull for a man of your temperament. (Spintho snarls). Don't be angry: I say it only to console you in case you should die in your bed tonight in the natural way. There's a lot of plague about.

SPINTHO (rising and running about in abject terror) I never thought of that. O Lord, spare me to be martyred. Oh, what a thought to put into the mind of a brother! Oh, let me be martyred today, now. I shall die in the night and go to hell. You're a sorcerer: you've put death into my mind. Oh, curse you, curse you! (He tries to seize Androcles by the throat).

FERROVIUS (holding him in a grip of iron) What's this, brother? Anger! Violence! Raising your hand to a brother Christian!

SPINTHO. It's easy for you. You're strong. Your nerves are all right. But I'm full of disease. (Ferrovius takes his hand from him with instinctive disgust). I've drunk all my nerves away. I shall have the horrors all night.

ANDROCLES (sympathetic) Oh, don't take on so, brother. We're all sinners.

SPINTHO (snivelling, trying to feel consoled). Yes: I daresay if the truth were known, you're all as bad as I am.

LAVINIA (contemptuously) Does THAT comfort you?

FERROVIUS (sternly) Pray, man, pray.

SPINTHO. What's the good of praying? If we're martyred we shall go to heaven, shan't we, whether we pray or not?

FERROVIUS. What's that? Not pray! (Seizing him again) Pray this instant, you dog, you rotten hound, you slimy snake, you beastly goat, or—

SPINTHO. Yes: beat me: kick me. I forgive you: mind that.

FERROVIUS (spurning him with loathing) Yah! (Spintho reels away and falls in front of Ferrovius).

ANDROCLES (reaching out and catching the skirt of Ferrovius's tunic) Dear brother: if you wouldn't mind—just for my sake—

FERROVIUS. Well?

ANDROCLES. Don't call him by the names of the animals. We've no right to. I've had such friends in dogs. A pet snake is the best of company. I was nursed on goat's milk. Is it fair to them to call the like of him a dog or a snake or a goat?

FERROVIUS. I only meant that they have no souls.

ANDROCLES (anxiously protesting) Oh, believe me, they have. Just the same as you and me. I really don't think I could consent to go to heaven if I thought there were to be no animals there. Think of what they suffer here.

FERROVIUS. That's true. Yes: that is just. They will have their share in heaven.

SPINTHO (who has picked himself up and is sneaking past Ferrovius on his left, sneers derisively)!!

FERROVIUS (turning on him fiercely) What's that you say?

SPINTHO (cornering). Nothing.

FERROVIUS (clenching his fist) Do animals go to heaven or not?

SPINTHO. I never said they didn't.

FERROVIUS (implacable) Do they or do they not?

SPINTHO. They do: they do. (Scrambling out of Ferrovius's reach). Oh, curse you for frightening me!

A bugle call is heard.

CENTURION (waking up) Tention! Form as before. Now then, prisoners, up with you and trot along spry. (The soldiers fall in. The Christians rise).

A man with an ox goad comes running through the central arch.

THE OX DRIVER. Here, you soldiers! clear out of the way for the Emperor.

THE CENTURION. Emperor! Where's the Emperor? You ain't the Emperor, are you?

THE OX DRIVER. It's the menagerie service. My team of oxen is drawing the new lion to the Coliseum. You clear the road.

CENTURION. What! Go in after you in your dust, with half the town at the heels of you and your lion! Not likely. We go first.

THE OX DRIVER. The menagerie service is the Emperor's personal retinue. You clear out, I tell you.

CENTURION. You tell me, do you? Well, I'll tell you something. If the lion is menagerie service, the lion's dinner is menagerie service too. This (pointing to the Christians) is the lion's dinner. So back with you to your bullocks double quick; and learn your place. March. (The soldiers start). Now then, you Christians, step out there.

LAVINIA (marching) Come along, the rest of the dinner. I shall be the olives and anchovies.

ANOTHER CHRISTIAN (laughing) I shall be the soup.

ANOTHER. I shall be the fish.

ANOTHER. Ferrovius shall be the roast boar.

FERROVIUS (heavily) I see the joke. Yes, yes: I shall be the roast boar. Ha! ha! (He laughs conscientiously and marches out with them).

ANDROCLES. I shall be the mince pie. (Each announcement is received with a louder laugh by all the rest as the joke catches on).

CENTURION (scandalised) Silence! Have some sense of your situation. Is this the way for martyrs to behave? (To Spintho, who is quaking and loitering) I know what YOU'LL be at that dinner. You'll be the emetic. (He shoves him rudely along).

SPINTHO. It's too dreadful: I'm not fit to die.

CENTURION. Fitter than you are to live, you swine.

They pass from the square westward. The oxen, drawing a waggon with a great wooden cage and the lion in it, arrive through the central arch.

ACT II

Behind the Emperor's box at the Coliseum, where the performers assemble before entering the arena. In the middle a wide passage leading to the arena descends from the floor level under the imperial box. On both sides of this passage steps ascend to a landing at the back entrance to the box. The landing forms a bridge across the passage. At the entrance to the passage are two bronze mirrors, one on each side.

On the west side of this passage, on the right hand of any one coming from the box and standing on the bridge, the martyrs are sitting on the steps. Lavinia is seated half-way up, thoughtful, trying to look death in the face. On her left Androcles consoles himself by nursing a cat. Ferrovius stands behind them, his eyes blazing, his figure stiff with intense resolution. At the foot of the steps crouches Spintho, with his head clutched in his hands, full of horror at the approach of martyrdom.

On the east side of the passage the gladiators are standing and sitting at ease, waiting, like the Christians, for their turn in the arena. One (Retiarius) is a nearly naked man with a net and a trident. Another (Secutor) is in armor with a sword. He carries a helmet with a barred visor. The editor of the gladiators sits on a chair a little apart from them.

The Call Boy enters from the passage.

THE CALL Boy. Number six. Retiarius versus Secutor.

The gladiator with the net picks it up. The gladiator with the helmet puts it on; and the two go into the arena, the net thrower taking out a little brush and arranging his hair as he goes, the other tightening his straps and shaking his shoulders loose. Both look at themselves in the mirrors before they enter the passage.

LAVINIA. Will they really kill one another?

SPINTHO. Yes, if the people turn down their thumbs.

THE EDITOR. You know nothing about it. The people indeed! Do you suppose we would kill a man worth perhaps fifty talents to please the riffraff? I should like to catch any of my men at it.

SPINTHO. I thought—